Righteous Captor
by Calleigh Jane
Summary: Righteous:   rahy-chus   -adjective; acting in an upright, moral way; virtuous. Synonyms: good, honest, fair, right. Antonyms: evil, wicked.
1. Chapter 1

**Part One**

One

[Hermione]

Clumsily, my fingers fumbled with my belt buckle, the digits shaking from cold and from nerves. My eyes anxiously flew back and forth between the two men standing in front of me, faces shrouded in the dark. I wanted to cry out, to beg for mercy, but I didn't. There was no reason for it, for they hadn't done anything to me. Yet. _Be strong_, I reminded myself. _Make the boys proud._

It took everything in me not to ask them the endless questions flooding my mind. Where was I? What was going to happen? Were they expecting me to give up the whereabouts of what was left of the resistance? Didn't they know we'd all disbanded after the war?

I took a steadying breath and focused on the matter at hand – my belt. As my freezing fingers fumbled again, one of the men let out an impatient sigh. "Miss Granger, if you are unable to remove your clothing yourself, I have gentlemen on hand that will happily assist you." I shivered at his familiar voice. Blaise Zabini. His was a voice that had always made me uncomfortable. Now it made me downright fearful.

Instead of answering, I worked harder at removing the offensive clothing. Eventually, the belt came undone and I pulled it through my belt loops. Each tug made the sick feeling in my stomach worse. I dropped the belt to the floor, and it made a light clang as the buckle hit the stone floor. I shuddered at the cold noise and hesitated. Next I would have to remove my shirt. I felt the tears welling up, disgrace already filling me.

"Quickly, Miss Granger. Master Malfoy does not have all day."

I began to shake violently. I wasn't sure if it was the cold or fear, or maybe it was both. I swallowed, but there was no saliva in my throat. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a sip of water.

"Excuse me," I said, trying to sound dignified, "but before I continue, could I please have a drink of water?" I was angry at how pathetic I sounded, but there was nothing I could do. My voice was hoarse from the screams I'd emitted while I was dragged into the dungeons. And I was so thirsty; thirsty to the point of physical exhaustion.

"You may have water after your meeting with Master Malfoy."

My eyes brightened with hope. Did this mean Lucius did not plan to kill me? I was so distracted by my hope that I barely heard the next words to leave the man's mouth. "However, after the meeting, I have a feeling that being thirsty will be the least of your worries."

Slowly, the words sunk in and an icy fear gripped me. I froze, fingers clenching the hem of my t-shirt. "No," I whispered. He meant to keep me alive, but torture me. I don't know why I was shocked, but I was. All traces of courage failed me and tears began to course down my cheeks.

"Miss Granger, if you do not speed this up, my friend and I will remove your garments by force."

I couldn't say anything. I couldn't move. I was immediately reminded of being tortured by Bellatrix. She'd been killed in the war, but those memories were permanent. Lucius was going to torture me for being a part of the the fall of his master, for being of "inferior birth." He was going to take over the work that Voldemort had left undone.

I wished Harry was still alive. He would have been able to protect me. But he'd died with Voldemort, leaving Ron and I alone. I closed my eyes, and the tears began to pour.

"Let me take care of it, Blaise. Tell my father we will be up momentarily."

Blaise didn't answer, butI heard his heavy footsteps leave the room, with a trail of men behind him.

I felt hands gripping my arm and that voice – not Blaise's – whispered into my hear, "Don't struggle. I'm going to remove your clothes. But first, here's some water." I felt a goblet being thrust into my hand. I drank it greedily, letting it wash down my parched throat.

Weakly, I nodded my thanks and turned my face to his. "Malfoy." I whispered tiredly. "I thought you were on our side. I should have known... you..." I couldn't finish my sentence, I was too exhausted. Unwillingly, I leaned into his arms and let him gently remove my clothes.

"If I wasn't on your side, I wouldn't have spared you the humiliation Blaise was planning to inflict upon you." He breathed into my ear. He spoke quickly, and the words were hard to make out. "When you meet my father, don't speak. I know it will be hard. He will use painful curses on you. Let him. Don't speak. Try to go into a place where the pain doesn't touch you – a memory, a daydream. But something far away. And strengthen your mind, don't let him see anything. I will do my best to block your thoughts and memories, but if he senses anything suspicious, I will be forced to remove myself." By this time, I was completely naked, shivers traveling through my whole body. "Be strong." He finally whispered, pushing me towards the door.

He led me through winding passages, dark and ominous, until eventually we were above ground. It was still gloomy, but the windows let in brief spots of light. I clung to the warm sun as long as I could. Eventually, though, we approached a great hall. "I'm going to throw you to the ground once we are in there. I beg your pardon for my roughness."

As he'd told me, I was flung onto the marble floor. I could already feel the bruises forming on my knees and I couldn't help but cringe.

"Good evening, Miss Granger." Lucius Malfoy's icy voice echoed throughout the cavernous space. "Welcome to my manor." I didn't answer, instead keeping my eyes on the ground, but I couldn't help the shiver that wracked my body. His voice had always been one that haunted my dreams. "I see you are not in a talkative mood this evening. Perhaps I can fix that." Before I could prepare myself, he nonchalantly ordered, "_Crucio." _Immediately, all that filled me was mindless pain, knives stabbing me while I drowned in a sea of acid. I was being strangled, beaten, torn apart at the seams. I tried to dig my way to the surface of the pain, to catch my breath and think of a memory, but my mind was blank. My eyes were open, but they saw nothing. Just red, red like blood. I knew I must have been screaming, but I couldn't hear it. The pain was too much; there was no room for anything else in my body, not even sound.

As quickly as it had come, the pain was gone. I laid on the floor, panting heavily. I couldn't seem to catch my breath. "Harry," I whispered. I don't know why, but the minute I gained control of my body, it was his face in my mind. I focused on it.

"What was that, Miss Granger? I wish you would speak up, I can hardly hear you."

I didn't answer, but squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't even hear Lucius say the word. Yet somehow, I immediately felt the pain again. This time it wasn't so bad so long as my eyes were on Harry.

I'd always envied Harry's eyes. They were a dazzling green, like emeralds trapped behind an ocean. They had hidden depths. They were glorious. My eyes traveled his face, moving next to his glasses. I recalled the tape that kept the blasted things from cracking in half until I'd had the good sense to fix them for him. Then my eyes moved to his too-familiar scar. The scar Voldemort had-

_Voldemort. Death Eaters... Lucius Malfoy. _Fear filled me, jolting me back to the present, and to the pain.

I felt my body emit a shriek again, and then I sank into the hot coals, the water so hot it froze me; consumed me. I let myself be dragged under and tried not to struggle.

After a hundred years, the pain went away again.

The sight of Lucius Malfoy flickered before my eyes. "I asked you to speak up, Miss Granger."

_He did? _I couldn't remember that far back.

"Now I will give you one more chance to tell me where the rest of the resistance is, before I begin to invade your mind. And trust me, you will not enjoy that." His tone was nonchalant, but I knew that there was a very real threat beneath his calm exterior.

I dragged my body semi-upright. "You, Lucius Malfoy, are a fool. _We_ are not the resistance. We already one the bloody war. It's _you_ who are the feeble 'resistance.' Your silly threats do not frighten me, scum."

"Always so full of pretty – but extremely nonsensical – words, Miss Granger. My threats are not silly, you see. I will carry them out fully. First I will cause you such pain you'll never walk straight again. Then I will take over your mind, and I will drag the information out of you. And when I do, the Dark Lord will rise to power once more."

Even through my pain, I had to laugh.

"Rise again? You're mad. A bloody seventeen-year-old boy destroyed your precious master, you loon. I hate to break your heart – not that you have one – but your pathetic master isn't coming back this time."

He said something to me, but I didn't hear. Preparing myself, I threw up my walls, glued my eyes onto the younger Malfoy, and let one single memory fill me.

That night.

_I don't know how I did it, but I crashed into his room in the nick of time. "I don't know what you think you're doing, Malfoy, but there is simply no way I'm going to let you go out and follow Harry. You're too well-known among the Death Eater crowd. You'd be spotted in an instant and it would ruin the whole thing."  
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_He was silent for a moment before sitting down on his bed, abandoning his preparations. "I'm of no use here," he sighed. "All I do now is sit around and tell Potter what happens in Death Eater gatherings. And I don't even know all that for sure, because there are many secrets I'm not privy to. I'm useless. Potter's out doing heroic nonsense, Weasley's his right hand man, you do all your book research and here I sit." He motioned to the bare room. Poor man, he looked so tired. I knew he hadn't gotten much sleep lately; nobody had. But he looked especially haggard._

_I sat down next to him, gently placing my hand on his thigh. "Draco." He looked up. I almost laughed at his shock. I never made moves to touch him and I _never _called him Draco. "You've done more than any of us could. We all just sort of fell in line to follow Harry. You've given up your family, your name, your preconceived beliefs to join our cause. You have made more of a sacrifice than any of us. I admire you."_

_"Don't be silly, Granger," he said gruffly._

_"I'm not silly. I'm being serious, and don't brush it off just because you want to be heartless and you want me to be that statistic-quoting, level-headed mudblood you've always known. Because you're not, and I'm not. You're a good man, and I'm a good woman."_

_"Don't call yourself that... name." He turned his face away._

_"You see? That suited you just fine for years, calling me 'mudblood', and now you can barely stand the word. You've changed so much. You used to be a scrawny little boy who depended on Daddy's money and your big goon friends to protect you. But you stand on your own now. You don't need any of them. You take care of yourself. And you've taken great measure to take care of others."_

_I pulled his face towards me gently, whispering, "You're good, Draco Malfoy. Better than anyone I know."_

_He grinned. Slowly, I felt myself being pulled in. His eyes were so beautiful, steely and dark, silvery and deep. My eyes fluttered to his lips, then back to his eyes. Before I knew it, our lips were touching. It felt natural, beautiful, like exhaling after holding your breath for a long time. I couldn't control my hands as they wound up into his hair, pulling me closer, closer, closer. A shiver escaped me as his strong arms wrapped around my waist. A hot feeling flooded my whole body, something I'd never experienced before._

_I pulled away, breathless. There were no words between us, just motion. In one movement, he pulled me to him and flipped me, so I was underneath him. My stomach tightened as he kissed me again, nibbling at my lips, then his mouth falling to my neck, kissing everywhere. Without warning, a moan escaped my lips._

_He froze. I froze. And then it was a frenzy of motion. I felt my clothes being torn off of my body, I felt his skin connect with mine. I smiled as I kissed him, holding back a euphoric giggle._

_"What?" He asked amidst the kisses._

_"Nothing. It's just... I always thought you'd be cold."_

_He laughed, a sound I'd never heard before. And if I had, it had been tampered by cruelty. "It's not like I'm a vampire, Granger. No, I'm not cold." Gingerly, he grabbed my hand and placed it on his stomach, dragging it along his flat, but slightly rippled chest until it was over his heart. I felt it beat furiously. _

_"You can laugh?" I teased, dragging my lips across his collarbone._

_When they hit the junction between his neck and his ear, he emitted a growl._

_"And growl?" I panted. "Who would have guessed. Malfoy's a growler."_

_He nipped at my uncovered chest. "Do not tease me, Hermione."_

_If I had been standing, I would have collapsed._

_"You... you c-called me... my... oh..." I sunk back into him, wrapping my legs around his bare waist._

_"Stop," someone yelled faintly. I pushed their order aside. All I wanted was him. "STOP!" Draco's voice was firm now. "He cannot see, Hermione."_

My eyes blinked open to where Draco stood, pain across his face. I redirected my thoughts to the present. Lucius was trying to invade my mind, Draco was trying to protect me, and he knew that if Lucius saw, it would all be over. I tried to come up with the spell to protect myself, but I was too tired. Instead, I closed my eyes and let the blackness engulf me.


	2. Chapter 2

Two

[Hermione]

"You saw, Father. She knows nothing. We ought to just be rid of her."

"Draco, you know nothing of what I found in that mudblood's mind."

A sigh. "You think I'm an idiot. I was monitoring you while you were looking through her memories. You are a fool to think I'd be left in the dark."

"Ah, my son, you always were so bright."

"Thank you, Father."

A long silence.

"The mudblood will be left here to recover. Then we will keep her here. She must know something, I can feel it. She was subconsciously blocking her mind, I could tell."

"But don't you think it would be more sensible if we let her go? That way we could make sure she gets in touch with her friends, and then we could re-capture her. There's no way she will let this go without warning her friends that we are on the lookout for them."

"Yes, but there is no guarantee that she won't escape us. The Dark Lord, although wise and powerful, certainly enlisted some idiots. She's bound to escape our clutches if we let her free."

"But, Father-"

"Draco. Enough. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were on their side."

"I stand with you, Father."

Another silence.

"I'm leaving tonight, and I'm taking everyone with me. I cannot have untrustworthy goons wandering around, making a mess of my home. I will be looking for the mudblood's friends. Should we find any of the resistors, we will bring them here. But you will be alone for now. Keep an eye on the mudblood. She's a tricky one, was very close to Potter."

"I will."

"Goodbye, my son."

"Goodbye, Father."

It was silent for a long time before I finally opened my eyes. Draco was sitting at my bedside, looking at me worriedly. "You're awake."

"I am."

"I was worried."

I didn't answer, instead I gently stroked his hand. "I'm alright. A little tired, but I'll be fine."

"Why did you choose that memory?" He asked abruptly. "You know it could have been fatal for the both of us if my father had seen it."

I turned my face away. "It's the strongest memory I have."

"Why didn't you think of Potter or Weasel or one of your other friends?"

"I told you," I snapped, "it's the strongest memory I have."

"You know that never should have happened." 

I turned to glare at him. "How could I not know that, Malfoy? You spent the following two weeks telling me that. And then the next four weeks not speaking to me!"

"Would you just be quiet, Granger. My father might still be in the house."

We sat in hostile silence for twenty minutes.

Finally, he spoke. "I didn't know what to do!"

"And you think I did? You think I spend all my time whoring around, Malfoy? That I knew how to handle spontaneously sleeping with someone and then him pretending I'm not there? You thought, 'Oh, well, she'll just go back to Weasley like nothing ever happened. She'll forget all about me and be happy'? Is that what you thought? You bloody idiot!"

"Stop shouting, Hermione."

"No, I will not stop shouting! You hurt me! You think I _like _knowing that I gave my virginity to some arse who made like he liked me for ten minutes? No. I hate it. And I hate you. So leave me alone, Malfoy, and go be with your little Death Eater pals."

"They're gone, as is my father."

"Yes, I heard," I seethed.

"So, what? You want me to leave you alone, in my mansion? Unprotected? You couldn't get yourself to the kitchen before you starved to death. Speaking of that, are you hungry? I can have the house elves fix you up something to eat."

I sent him a withering look.

"So you're still on your high horse about house elves being slaves?"

I didn't answer, instead I silently stared at the ceiling.

"You know, when the Dark Lord was defeated and I thought my father was going to be arrested, I told all the house elves to go, to be free. I released them. Do you know how many left?"

I refused to speak.

"One. One house elf left, and then he returned two weeks later. They don't know how to take care of themselves, Hermione."

"That doesn't mean they deserve to be enslaved!" I burst, my temper flaring.

He sighed. "There you go, making your assumptions, as usual. No, Hermione, they are not enslaved. Each and every house elf at Malfoy Manor is under contract. Not to my father, but to me. They receive payment – food and board. They have the option not to wear clothes, as you know clothing is a sign of disgrace among the elves. But the elves here are permitted to wear clothing or not to as they so choose. They are given days off on holidays, even though they don't recognize them. But they are permitted to visit local elf communities – and yes, those do exist. I bet you didn't know that. The house elves that work here are not slaves, Hermione. They are servants. Willing servants."

I couldn't speak. While I still found many things wrong with his ideas, I was completely taken aback. What a huge step for house elves as a culture!

"Draco... That's wonderful. What a difference it would make for the house elves if every manor was run like that! Did they make any suggestions? Requests? Terms of being employed?"

"No. It will take a long time before they can accept those concepts," Draco sighed. "Hermione, did it ever occur that in order for the house elves to be free, it will take more than you? It will take them actually standing up and making a statement. Sure, it helps that you're on their side, but... you can't fight all of their battles."

He and I spent the next half hour discussing house elves, politics, and various other not-awkward subjects. By the end of our talk, I was falling asleep. My arguments got weaker, and my thoughts got jumbled.

The last thing I heard before dark consumed me was his voice soothingly saying, "I'll be here when you wake up."

My stomach knotted as I breathed in. It was that smell, the smell of his skin; it got me every time. I moaned breathily and reached out for him. It ached, but I barely felt it through my foggy haze.

"What do you need?"

"You," I mumbled, still reaching. "Come touch me."

"Hermione, you're dreaming."

"No'm not. I know that smell and... c'mere." My hand made contact with bare skin. "I know your stomach. Scar riiiight..." my hand sunk low, to just below his belly button, "there. An' over here..." I slid my hand to his hip, where I tickled him. He let out an ungentlemanly snort.

I opened my eyes and smiled tiredly. "G'morning, Malfoy."

"You know my body way too well considering we've only had sex once." He said drily.

"And it just so happened it was the first an' only time I had sex _ever_, you git. Of course I 'member." I unconsciously grinned wider. "Did you gimme something? I feel funny."

"Yes, I gave you some truth serum."

My face turned stormy in seconds, and some of the fog in my mind cleared. "Are you kidding me? You disgusting prick!"

"No," he replied, ignoring my insult and raised voice. "I am not 'kidding you,' whatever that means."

My mind switched gears so quickly it gave me whip lash. "You're not wearing a shirt."

"No, Granger, I am not."

"I like it." I clamped my mouth shut. "No, wait, I didn't mean to say that."

"Doesn't make it less true, though. I know you like it, Granger. I gave you _truth _serum, remember?" He chuckled while pouring something clear into a glass. "Here I have the antidote to the truth serum. You may have it when you answer all of my questions."

"But Malfoy-" I whined.

"No."

"Fine. But I'm going to try to lie to you."

He smirked. "Did you mean to tell me that?"

I bit my lips, trying not to speak. "No."

"I thought so." He set the antidote on the table, just out of my reach. "First, we will start with the important things, and then we'll get to the fun stuff."

My face twisted into an expression of surprise.

"What?"

"Malfoy, you look... mischievous."

"Do I?"

"Yes."

He grinned. "And how do I look when I'm looking mischievous?"

"Sexy." I flushed.

He chuckled. "I thought you'd say something like that. On to business." He took a deep breath. "Do you know about a resistance?"

"Why are you asking me these questions, Malfoy?" I evaded.

"Because I need to make sure that you truly don't know anything. I need to know what you know, so I can protect you from my father."

I felt warm inside. "That's sweet of you."

"Right. Sweet. Now do you know of a resistance, Hermione?"

"You know, it makes me melt when you call me that." My mind drifted into la-la land the moment he said my name. I wasn't even focused on the questions he was going to ask, only on the euphoric feeling I got when he said my name. "I wonder if these feelings are a side result of the serum. I like them."

"Hermione. Focus, please."

"Then stop calling me that."

He groaned, irritated. "What? It's your name!"

"I like how you say it. Very prim, proper. I've always thought it was interesting how you're rich, so you talk differently. It's sexy."

"There you go, using that word again," he rested his head in his hands. "If you want to get the antidote, then you'll have to answer my questions. Do you understand?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Alright. Granger, is there a resistance?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to tell you."

He stood up and pounded his fist on the wall. "Why are you avoiding my questions when you bloody well know you can trust me!"

I whimpered. "Because if you can hurt me once, then you can hurt all my friends just as easily . And even if I told you, would you really believe me?"

"Of course I would! I gave you truth serum. You have to tell the truth!"

"Yes, but even if I told you it didn't exist, they'd still blame us – muggleborns, friends of Harry – for the disappearances! Malfoy," I said darkly, "I _know _that your father's little Death Eater friends have been disappearing left and right. I know he's worried. But even if I told him that my friends had nothing to do with anything, he'd never believe me. Even if _you _told him, he'd still kill me. So why bother telling you? It will only give you the sick satisfaction that you had power over me. Again. And then I'll die either way."

"I could convince him to let you go. You could escape. I could make sure they never catch you!"

"If it didn't work this morning, when will it ever work?" I asked bitterly.

"You heard us speaking." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes," I whispered, tears filling my eyes. "You know he's going to kill me. You know that. He'll torture me first, I'd imagine. His friends will beat me, maybe rape me. And then kill me. It's only half about the information that we both know I don't have, Malfoy. It's about who I am, my blood, what I stand for." My hands were shaking. "So just give up, Malfoy. Please. Spare me the humiliation of your interrogation. I don't know anything, not anything of consequence." Tears began to roll down my cheeks.

"Alright," he said softly. He handed me the cup of the antidote.

I tried to change the subject. "So, what is this antidote?"

"The only way that truth serum can wear off is through sleep. This will put you under for a little while, and when you wake up, you'll be good as new."

My eyes began to cloud. "But I wanted to... talk to you... Will you still be here... when I..."

"Yes." His voice sounded far away. I reached to keep focus of his face, to stay awake, but within seconds, it was black again.


	3. Chapter 3

Three

[Hermione]

My eyes fluttered open, and I was still in that same room. I searched for Malfoy, but he was gone. I looked around for some sign of what day it was, to gauge how long I'd been here, but there was no clock. All I knew was that the sun was bright in the sky. It had to be around noon.

I took a moment to take in my surroundings. The walls were light gray, almost blue. The bed was a deep wood, with natural grains running through it. It looked expensive, but then, everything in the house looked expensive. I tilted my head. Actually, that was an assumption. I hadn't seen much of the house other than the main hall and a few passageways. The bed sheets were silk - _of course_, I thought to myself – and were a midnight blue. Solid. Simple. But elegant. There was a writing desk of the same wood facing the window, and two doors. I assumed they led to a bathroom and closet.

As I was admiring the room, Malfoy walked in. "Do you like the décor?"

I nodded my approval. "Yes. Not as flashy and overtly rich as I would have expected. It's still deliciously luxurious, though."

He paused before setting down a mug on the matched-wood bedside table. "Are you sure the truth serum has worn off, Granger? Do you feel alright?"

I smiled. "Yes, I feel fine. Well, as fine as a captive in a strange house can be. You know, Malfoy, just because I'm a muggleborn doesn't mean I can't have taste."

He shot me a look. "Come now. You know I'm not like that."

"I know." I paused to look around a bit more. "So what room is this?"

"Mine," he replied nonchalantly.

I feigned surprise. "A Malfoy? To give up his room for a stranger? And a hostage no less! Preposterous!" I laughed, my voice barely sounding like it was my own.

He scowled. "You know, Granger, just because I – what is it you muggleborns call it? - 'hit it and quit it' doesn't mean I'm a bad person."

"Right, it just makes you sloppy with your sex life," I spat.

He was silent for a moment before he spoke again. "I brought you cocoa."

"Thank you, Malfoy." I replied softly, gripping the mug. It warmed my hands and I shivered. I hadn't realized that I was cold.

"Are you cold?"

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask if you were fine, I asked if you were cold."

I growled. "Oh, shove off, Malfoy!"

He chuckled. "Who would've guessed? Granger's a growler." I remembered saying those very words, only using his name instead.

My face paled and I clenched my fists. "You're mocking me! You're mocking my ignorance for falling for your bullshit! You piece of-"

"Calm down, Hermione! I was trying to lighten the mood, that's all!"

"By bringing up the single most poignant memory of my life, which happens to be with the single most disgusting piece of-"

"Quit with the cursing, Granger!"

"Why? Does it make you angry, Malfoy?" I began to curse repeatedly.

"Yes!"He hollered over me. "It makes me angry to see those lips saying such lowly words! So shut up!"

I hesitated. "Those lips."

"Yes," he sighed, "those lips."

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

He growled darkly. "Granger."

"Fine. What the H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks is that supposed to mean?"

He looked confused. "What are 'hockey sticks'?"

I sighed. "Never mind, Malfoy."

More silence. I wondered if my whole time here before I died was to be spent in awkward silences with my mortal enemy, turned one night stand, turned righteous captor.

"What I meant, Granger, is that you have lips that are... quite lovely, you know... and it makes me upset to see them speaking curse words." He explained rationally.

"But you can curse? That's _such_ a double standard!" I complained.

"Nonetheless, I don't like to see you curse."

"So you like my lips, hm?"

"Maybe," he started to blush.

"Are you blushing, Malfoy?" I was genuinely surprised.

"Maybe." He sounded so hostile, I had to laugh.

"Well, then read them now. F-U-C-K. What does that spell?"

"Granger," he warned.

A grin stretched across my face, and oh-so-slowly, I said the offensive word. He pounced. "Watch your bloody mouth!" He stood, his fists clenched tight.

I grinned. "Fine. I'm done." I raised my hands in surrender. "You know, you appear calm most of the time. Snarky, but calm. However, I've decided that you're not calm at all. You're very on edge. Violent, almost."

"Well, Granger," he spat, "that's because I'm too busy looking out for _your_ damned life to be worried about keeping up my chipper attitude!"

I grew silent. While I had trouble admitting it, this was true. If Malfoy wasn't here to look after me, I'd probably starve. Or grow mad from lack of human conversation. On the other hand, he was still my captor. "You know, you don't have to do this. I'd rather die of starvation or madness than die at the hand of your father."

He sighed. "I _do _have to do this, because I want you to make it out alive."

"But if you fail, Malfoy, you'll only be hurting me more."

"I will not fail," he shot back. "I am a Malfoy. Malfoys do not fail. It is unacceptable."

I looked at him, and my heart filled with pity. I wondered how long it had taken Lucius Malfoy to impress that idea into his young son's mind. I didn't imagine that it took long. Children were vulnerable, innocent; most of them would die to please their parents. Draco was probably no different.

It was difficult for me to imagine him as a child. His face was all sharp lines and angles, no cherub-like quality to him. He was tired looking, and drawn, with dark circles under his eyes and his skin stretched over his proud, high cheek bones. "Malfoy," I said gently. "I wish you wouldn't fight for me. I'm not worth it."

"I'm not fighting for you, Hermione. I'm fighting with you."


	4. Chapter 4

Four

[Hermione]

We spent the most of the day in Draco's room, trying not to speak of the inevitable. At some point, though, something had to give.

After a long pause in the conversation, he turned his face away from me, looking nervous.

"What's wrong?" I asked. If he was nervous, I knew that I should be too. My fate rested in his hands, after all. The very thought gave me anxious chills.

"Nothing," he quickly replied.

"Tell me."

"No."

"Malfoy."

"No."

"Come on!"

"Drop it!"

"Malfoy," I cried, "please, we've been getting on so well, and now you have to go and ruin it by keeping stupid secrets!"

"It's not a big deal."

"If it isn't a big deal, then why aren't you telling me?"

He had no answer to that.

"My father is coming for a visit sometime this week. He expects to meet at the fireplace briefly to discuss... well, you. I haven't decided what to tell him."

"It's best if you tell him the truth." I suggested.

He sighed. "Is it? Is it best if I tell him that you're awake and fine? It will just make him more eager to come back and break you. But if I tell him you're suffering and of no use, he'll tell me to put you out of your misery. He'll say, 'We'd do it for any animal. Do it for the mudblood.' And if I were to tell him the whole truth, do you think he'd be pleased to hear that his son – his own flesh and blood – is now a sympathizer with his enemies?" He hesitated. "He didn't know where I was during the war, you know."

"What?"

"He didn't know. He thought I was at Hogwarts still, safe and sound. And my body was. I used a spell to replicate myself. It seemed just like me, only duller. Nobody figured it out, though. They all thought I was withdrawn because of the wartime struggles." He sighed. "That night... that night you said, 'You have made more of a sacrifice than any of us. I admire you_.' _But I never made any sacrifice. I never gave anything up. Nobody really knows that I sided with... you. I was ashamed when you called me a good man. Me, ashamed!" He chuckled bitterly. "I couldn't help but do what I did... with you. You were so enchanting, the way you believed in me."

"Malfoy, just because you left a body at Hogwarts doesn't mean that you didn't sacrifice anything! I saw you fight. You could have died!"

"And I would have had a proper Death Eater's burial," he scowled.

"I don't believe it."

"What?"

"That you..." I gulped, "slept with me because you were ashamed."

"You're right. I did it because I felt alone, and hurt, and you were so kind to me that night, there were no words to convey my gratitude. Only... actions." His face tinged pink, and I smiled, my own cheeks burning.

"Well, your thanks are accepted. As is your apology for hurting me so badly afterwords."

He started, "But I didn't apolo-"

"Don't spoil it, Malfoy," I sighed.

"Right." He leaned back in his chair. "Are you hungry?"

"I thought you'd never ask!"

In the next few days, I thought a lot about Harry and Ron and the war. I spent my time in Malfoy's bedroom, sometimes with him, sometimes alone, thinking back to the old times, when things had been easy.

With the war over, all of us had been buoyant. The world now was a better place. It was during this time when Ron and I became a couple.

_His voice was timid as he whispered, "Hermione?" I could almost hear the blush in his voice. He rarely called me by my full name anymore; it was usually 'Mione or Herms or something along __those lines, all of which annoyed me to absolutely no end. But it was part of what made Ron, well... Ron._

_"Yes?" I replied, dazed. It was late, and all I wanted to do was sleep. But since the war, sleep never came easily. I figured that a few minutes with Ron wouldn't hurt anything. We were at the Burrow, and I was sleeping in one of the teensy guest rooms. "Come in, Ron," I said._

_He padded in, and I noted through the dim light that he only wore pajama pants. His chest was bare and flat, slightly rippled by newly developed muscle. The war had taken a toll on our bodies, but where I grew frail, he grew strong and muscled. "What do you need?" I asked gently, not wanting to be rude. My eyes started to close, but his voice made me open them again._

_"I'm frightened."_

_I'd never heard him say those words before. Through all the war, he'd been as strong as any grown man. I was proud of him. But as I looked at him, I saw an eleven-year-old boy with pink ears and big, worried eyes. I saw somebody other than what he was now. "Come here," I beckoned._

_"I miss Harry." He said simply. I nodded. _

_He sat down on my bed, and looked at me for a long time. When he spoke, he stumbled at first. "Y-you know, 'Mione... I've l-loved you for as long as I can remember. And I... I know that now isn't a good time. Harry's gone, my brother's... g-gone, and everything in the world is mending itself, but I had to tell you. I love you."_

_I was a little taken aback. During the final battle, he'd planted a heat-of-the-moment, adrenaline-rush kiss onto me. And I'd spent the past few nights wondering what it had meant for us. But my mind kept going back to that big, empty house where we'd all hidden. I kept thinking of Draco Malfoy, eyes like silver looking into mine, as he took – no, I gave him – the one thing I'd never imagined giving to him._

_"Ron," I breathed. I couldn't find anything to say._

_He began again, even more nervous than before. "I understand if you don't love me too, I just thought... you know, our kiss there at the last battle. Maybe it was the nerves talking, but I felt something. P-please tell me you felt something, 'Mione." He was pleading with me._

_I just looked into his brown eyes, the ones I'd once gazed at so lovingly even as he teased me for my buck teeth or my puffy, unmanageable hair. "You know I did, Ron." I replied quietly, turning my face away. I could almost hear his face light up._

_"Really?"_

_"Yes, really."_

_A large part of me was thrilled right to the core. But another part of me, a smaller, quieter part, was unsure. Ron didn't know what I did with Malfoy that night, and he never could. And everybody knows that secrets are the death of relationships. However, I was hopeful. I'd wanted this for so long, and Malfoy wasn't ruining it for me._

_While I was drifting in my own thoughts, I hardly noticed Ron leaning in until he was upon me. Before I could wonder about his close proximity, his lips were crashed to mine. My heart skipped a beat, and then slowed back to its normal pace. This felt... relaxing. Warm, but not hot. Slow, but not that unbearable kind of slow that I'd experienced... _No, I'm not thinking about that right now.

_Ron spent the night with me. We slept, clothed and deep, with our arms wrapped around each other._

That was the start of our relationship. Everyone expected us to get married right off, as this was obviously a match made in heaven. But we didn't. Instead, we waited. We dated for almost two years. He had just recently proposed to me, and we were engaged now. Only my ring had gotten lost in the capture. My eyes welled with tears. I wondered if Ron was worried about me.

When Malfoy entered the room, tears were beginning to course down my cheeks.

"Granger?" He asked gruffly. I could tell he wasn't sure what to do. "Is... everything alright?"

I nodded, not able to speak. The pain in my chest was too great.

"What's wrong?"

I cleared my throat, trying to get the tears to dissipate. "I... I miss Ron. And I wish I could see him once before... Well, I just miss him, and he's probably worried to death about me. Without Harry here... I'm all that he has. When I'm gone, he'll be alone."

"You're still with Weasel then?"

I didn't even protest about Malfoy calling him that. "We're engaged."

He pointedly looked at my bare finger.

"And I suppose he couldn't afford a ring?"

My temper flared. "For your information, it was lost when your little Death Eater pals captured me," I spat, venom dripping from every word. "I hope Ron finds me. I hope he follows me here with all the Aurors and people from the Ministry and he kills all of your father's filthy friends!" I was so angry I nearly shook.

"Now, now. Don't get sore with me, Granger." His tone was uncertain.

"I'm never going to see my fiancee again, you prat! The one man who wasn't only after one thing, who took care of me, I'll never see again. Instead, I'm stuck here with my miserable one-night-stand."

He sighed. "You are _really _bitter, you know that?"

"And rightly so!" I replied angrily. "I hate secrets. I believe they destroy relationships. But I could never tell Ron what happened! He'd kill you!"

"As if he could," he chuckled to himself.

"He could! Ron is twice the man you are!"

Malfoy snorted.

I was exhausted now, and all I wanted to do was fall asleep. But I was also riled up, and I couldn't let the situation lie. I wasn't that kind of person. "Do you have some parchment?" I asked shortly.

"Why?" He asked. He was suspicious, I could tell.

"I want to write Ron a letter in case... well, we both know I'm not making it out of here alive."

"Granger, have you no faith in me at all?"

I looked at him then. His eyes were wide, round, but tired. He'd been spending all his time with me, and he looked even more drawn than before. His face was pleading. "I am going to help you. You're not going to die. I promise you."

I almost believed him. His eyes looked more open than I'd ever seen them before. I made to get out of the bed, to walk across the room to where he sat. As my feet hit the floor for the first time in unnumbered days, my muscles screamed. I cried out as my knees gave. Seconds before I hit the floor, Malfoy scooped me up into his arms. "You're not quite ready to walk yet. The curse my father used on you was revised. Did you notice the different enunciation as he cast it? It makes the pain more... painful. And the damage is far more lasting."

I nodded, resting my head against his shoulder. "Am I too heavy?"

He laughed, and it sounded genuine. "Granger, you must be joking. You've had nothing but cocoa and crackers for three days. You weigh nothing."

"Can we leave this room?"

"What, not good enough for you?" He teased.

"No, it's just that I need a different view."

He nodded and carried me out of the room. As we entered the hallway, it was significantly darker. The walls were a deep brown, and I almost missed the airy quality of his bedroom. But I was thankful for the change of scenery. "Where are we going?" I asked, my arms looped around his neck. As I turned to face him, I was reminded of having my arms around him, just like this. My heart thumped.

He looked down at me. "My mother's parlor. You'll like that room, I think." We walked down the hall and were about to head down the steps when I stopped him.

"Wait. Can I bathe first?"

He looked surprised. "What does it matter if you bathe or not?"

"I don't want to soil your furniture. And I haven't bathed in three days."

He sniffed me. "Yes, very true. Alright, to the shower." He carried me back down the hallway and pushed open a door on the left. "Here you are." He set me gently on the toilet seat while he started the water and got out linens and the like. He then stopped and looked at me. "Well? Undress. You can't get in here yourself, I'll have to put you in." He must have noticed the mortified look on my face, because he said, "What? It isn't like this would be my first time seeing you naked." My face turned bright red. "Don't blush like that. You look quite tempting when you do that." He paused. "Oh, and it's not even the second time either."

I glared at him. "Are you bloody bipolar? First you have no respect for me, and now you're dying to see me naked again. This is madness." My hands shook. Thinking of the last time he'd seen me naked... that pain; it gave me chills like I'd never known.

He tapped his foot impatiently. "Are you taking your clothes off or not?"

"No!" I growled.

"Fine. Suit yourself." He left me alone, and I slipped the robe off of my body. I wondered – for the first time – who it belonged to. Perhaps his mother? My face flushed with shame. I was wearing my captor's mother's clothes like they were my own!

I tried to stand up, and at first I was certain I could get to the bathtub, but it was a large, tiled bathroom, with very little to grab onto. I stood shakily, and pain rocketed through my knees, causing me to collapse. "Ah!" I emitted a painful moan.

"Granger, are you alright in there?"

"Just lovely, thank you," I called back.

A sigh. "Are you on the floor?"

"No." I was lying, but what did it matter?

"I heard you fall. Am I permitted to come in and help?"

"No!" I half-shouted.

"Alright."

Slowly, I began to drag myself towards the tub, but after a few feet, my arms began to ache. "What is going on with my body?" I cried. "Everything hurts!"

"I told you, my father made a few... revisions... to the curse."

I whimpered. "It's terrible."

He hesitated. "I know."

My heart felt for him. "He used it on you?" I didn't know whether to be surprised or not.

"Can I come in now?"

"Did he use it on you?" I was no longer surprised.

"Granger." I heard the threat in his voice.

"Alright. Come in."

I was so humiliated as he looked at me, silver eyes full of pity. Gingerly, like I was made of glass, he picked me up. I rested my head against his shirt, my nose buried in his scent. I did it so he didn't see the red in my cheeks. I was so embarrassed, I kept my legs clenched together and my arms crossed over my bare breasts.

As he set me into the full, warm bathtub, my body began to relax a little. "That's right, ease up," he encouraged. "The more tense you are, the more your muscles will ache." He held my hand until I was comfortably leaned against the back of the tub, and my legs were stretched out. "Are you alright?" His voice was so gentle, so sweet. I nodded, my eyes sliding shut as the warmth enveloped me.

"Call me when you're finished," he said, leaving the bathroom. "I won't be far."

I nodded. Before he left, he looked back at me. I knew he was looking at the long scar along my stomach, and I turned my face away. I heard the door shut behind him, as a quiet tear slipped down my cheek.


End file.
